


Kristy's Hookup

by doublejoint



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: F/F, First Time, Future Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: It’s an excuse to see her again (not that Kristy needed one).
Relationships: Dawn Schafer/Kristy Thomas
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Kristy's Hookup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piscaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/gifts).



> thanks so much for the great prompts! i had so much fun writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it :)

Kristy stands on the doorstep, her hands pushing deep into her pants pockets. She’s not scared; she’s not nervous; she’s dealt with way bigger things. Like her first college finals last week, or like every part of college so far, every reminder that being a big fish in a very small pond doesn’t mean anything when you move into the ocean. She checks her watch; it’s half past twelve on the dot. She rings the bell.

Dawn answers the door almost immediately, and for a second they stand on either side of the threshold, sizing each other up. Dawn had sent a polaroid of her Farrah Fawcett-style layered haircut in one of the many letters she’d sent Kristy; it’s grown out a little but it still looks good on her, hair falling loose below her shoulders. She’s wearing a bright blue San Jose State crewneck sweatshirt; there’s a stain on one of the cuffs and it’s a little tight on her (though that’s probably the point). Her black jeans are faded and tapered around the ankles, and her bare feet curl around the welcome mat. 

“Your haircut’s not that bad,” Dawn says.

Kristy scowls. She wants to make a stupid joke about pick-up lines, but the idea leaves her tongue dry, too close to reality, too close to something her annoying roommate, Bethany, might say. Bethany had been the one who had cajoled Kristy into getting a new haircut, which had resulted in Kristy getting a pixie cut that looked terrible with her ears and had elicited merciless teasing from her brothers over the Thanksgiving break. (She hadn’t sent a picture back to Dawn, and Dawn had been in Palo Alto for Thanksgiving.) It’s grown out some, but not nearly enough to look good.

Dawn steps out of the way and Kristy steps in, rolling up the sleeves of her cardigan. She hadn’t been that close with Mary Anne by the time they’d moved into the renovated barn, and it still feels odd, the layout too unfamiliar. She’s not sure if the pictures on the wall were there the last time, Dawn and Jeff as kids, and a picture Kristy recognizes from her own mother’s pictures of Mary Anne with Claudia and Mimi, probably something she’d found and given to Richard after the fire. Thinking too much about that makes Kristy’s mouth even drier. Maybe she can’t do this.

“You still want to?” says Dawn. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Kristy bites her lip. She hates backing out. Mary Anne gets back today, and there’s no way she and Dawn will have time alone again before winter break is over. She doesn’t have to do this; Dawn is giving her the opportunity to turn it down. It’s okay if she doesn’t, but--Dawn, in jeans and a sweatshirt, hair a little messy, barely a foot away in the vestibule. She’s thought about this for a long time, her mouth on Dawn’s, Dawn’s hands on her body.

“Can I kiss you first?”

Dawn nods.

Kristy leans in, and Dawn obliges and bows her head to Kristy’s level. Their lips meet. There are no fireworks or symphonies, but Kristy’s given up expecting that. Dawn’s mouth is soft, her breath fresh like she’s just brushed her teeth, and it leaves a little bit of a tingle on Kristy’s lips and tongue when she pulls back.

“Yes. I want to have sex with you.”

It sounds right, sure, as firm as she is confident about it, and Dawn smiles, taking Kristy’s hand and practically pulling her upstairs. They pass a closed door on the left, and then the next one is ajar and Dawn pushes it open. 

Tigger is curled up on the bed; he lifts his head to stare at Dawn and Kristy. Dawn sighs.

“Come on, Kitty. Go play in Richard’s closet.”

Tigger ignores her, and Dawn picks him up, placing him down by the door. He takes the hint and leaves, and Dawn shuts the door behind her. 

“So, uh,” says Dawn. “Take off your shoes?”

Kristy pulls of her battered blue Keds, not bothering to untie them. She makes her way over to the bed; that’s where they’re supposed to end up, anyway. Dawn is playing with the cuff of her sweatshirt. She’s never had sex either, something that she’d admitted in a letter to Kristy--and, really, of all the people Kristy would have said would be the one to keep the promise of writing letters with her from college, Dawn would be the last she’d have guessed. But here they are.

Kristy sits down on the bed, running a hand through her hair. “So?”

“So,” says Dawn. 

She stands in front of Kristy and leans over to kiss her. This is more forceful than the one downstairs, more tongue and her hands moving to Kristy’s thighs, the kind of kiss Kristy’s been thinking about since Dawn’s last letter, when she’d suggested they do this. Kristy reaches her hands up, aiming for Dawn’s waist but getting Dawn’s ass instead. It’s firm and round under her hands; she leans back into Kristy’s touch. 

Dawn groans and Kristy feels something rolling through her stomach; she pulls Dawn down on top of her and they both fall to the bed. Kristy’s face is in Dawn’s chest; she inhales the scent of that weird organic detergent Sharon buys and closes her eyes. 

“You good?” says Dawn.

“Yeah,” says Kristy. 

She scoots backward and they resume kissing, pushing their bodies together. This feels awkward, Dawn’s hipbone against hers, Dawn’s body pressing down on her chest, Dawn’s hands wandering up and down--Dawn is just as clueless as she is here, Kristy reminds herself. So she’s going to do what she does best, and take charge. She rolls them over, straddling Dawn’s waist, freeing her hands to move down to the bottom of Dawn’s sweatshirt and reach under it, under her thin t-shirt to her skin. 

It’s soft, cool to the touch; Dawn gasps and squirms. Kristy props herself up on one elbow; Dawn’s gone slack-jawed and her eyes are wide, speechless, for once. Gorgeous, Kristy thinks, but she won’t think too much about thinking it. She leans back down to kiss Dawn again and move her hands up. This time, Dawn’s ready, pulling her arms up so that Kristy can peel off her shirt and sweatshirt. She’s not wearing a bra, and for a second Kristy’s annoyed that she doesn’t get to take it off of Dawn, but--Dawn’s breasts, her nipples hard and dark, are right in front of her. Dawn slips her hand in Kristy’s and brings it over to touch. This skin is even softer, and when Kristy brushes her thumb over Dawn’s nipple, Dawn hisses, drawing her breath in. 

“You’re still all dressed,” Dawn says.

“Oh,” says Kristy.

She sits up to take off her sweater, throwing it (with perfect accuracy) over to Dawn’s desk chair, and she’s halfway done with her t-shirt before Dawn’s hands are fumbling with the button on her jeans.

“Let me help,” she says.

Kristy wiggles out of her jeans, leaving her in just her underwear, suddenly aware of Dawn’s eyes on her body, resting on her thighs, dragging up before meeting Kristy’s gaze. 

“Well?” says Kristy.

It comes out more demanding, perhaps, than she’d wanted it to sound (but no less demanding than what she’d wanted and meant).

“Well,” says Dawn, and then she pushes Kristy back down, unhooking her bra on the way. 

She acts like she knows what she’s doing, her hands massaging Kristy’s breasts, just ghosting over her nipples, and fuck. Kristy squirms now, opening her legs. She can feel how wet she’s getting, how much she’d rather have Dawn touching her down there.

“Go faster,” Kristy says, and Dawn laughs, her breath hot against Kristy’s collarbone.

“You want this?” Dawn says, bringing one hand down to Kristy’s stomach.

“Lower.”

Dawn’s hands brush against the insides of Kristy’s thighs; pushing into the skin that’s softer and more tender than Kristy would like it to be. Kristy makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“Hands or mouth?”

Both, Kristy wants to say, but—”Mouth.”

Dawn grins up at her, sticks out her tongue, and then presses a small kiss to kristy’s hip, right above the elastic of her panties. She then moves across, her tongue dragging under, until she grabs the fabric with her teeth and snaps it against Kristy’s skin.

“Sorry,” Dawn says. 

She moves away from that--is she blushing? Kristy props herself up enough to see, Dawn holding back her hair with one hand and her face hidden from this angle. She presses her mouth to the front of Kristy’s panties, and her breath his hot through the fabric on Kristy’s clit. She nearly falls backwards, a shudder rolling through her.

“That’s--good.”

The words aren’t adequate, but they spur Dawn on, licking Kristy through her panties, curling Kristy’s toes. She squeezes her eyes shut and her mouth is closed too; she’s breathing in huffs through her nose. Dawn’s fingers slip under her waistband and finally pull off her underwear; Kristy opens her eyes again. Dawn scoots up, breathing softly against Kristy, and Kristy has to fight not to squirm again. She tries to spread her thighs even wider, but it’s a little bit uncomfortable. She relaxes, and then Dawn’s tongue is inside her, moving in and out and around, so much better than her own hand has ever been. Kristy screws her eyes tightly shut, tries to steady her breathing, and then Dawn draws out and licks her clit; a noise comes out of Kristy like a mangled half-word that doesn’t mean anything. And then Dawn’s tongue is back inside, and Kristy’s clenching around her. And again; Dawn doesn’t slow her rhythm and Kristy’s body is left to catch up with it, to meet the pace, over and over.

Dawn draws back (after how long? Kristy’s well on the way to coming a second time, but it’s hard to tell just how many minutes have passed), and Kristy feels herself almost—whine. She opens her eyes; Dawn is sitting up, her eyes wide open as if frightened, her lips swollen and her face shiny with come. 

“Shit,” says Dawn, and she runs over to the window and peers out, as if she’s afraid to be seen.

“They’re back. You have to hide.”

There’s really no explanation for Kristy being here. Back in middle school, it would have made perfect sense for Kristy to be over to surprise Mary Anne with a welcome back party, but just one guest does not make a party, and Kristy and Mary Anne haven’t had that level of absolute closeness for a long enough time that this would seem wildly inappropriate and weird. 

Kristy grabs her jeans from the foot of the bed and pulls them on--minus her panties, which she stuffs into her pocket (they don’t fit, but her sweater is long enough to hide them--and hung over the desk chair, too far from the closet that Dawn is gesturing her toward).

The door opens downstairs; Kristy wedges herself on top of the laundry hamper and between a few dress shirts that probably don’t fit Dawn anymore, trying to tell her body to calm down. She pulls the door shut behind her.

She could grab her sweater from the chair, but there’s no guarantee that Dawn will be able to delay Mary Anne or that Mary Anne won’t want to hang out in Dawn’s room and catch up on sisterly bonding or something. (Kristy is momentarily grateful that her sisters are so much younger than her that these requisite rituals don’t apply. Telling anyone, let alone Karen or Emily, that she’d just had sex with Dawn is impossible to imagine. But also, she’s just had sex! She’s just had sex with Dawn, holy shit.)

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps on the stairs are almost immediate. The door is slightly ajar; Kristy peers through the keyhole. Tigger comes in, pushing it slightly more open, but Kristy hears the sound of another door and the footsteps die. They’ve probably gone into Mary Anne’s room. How long is Kristy going to be stuck here? She needs to be home for dinner, and it’s probably already getting dark. Tigger climbs onto Dawn’s bed and sits down, perched like a sphinx. Kristy hears the other door open again.

“Tigger’s always hanging out in my room. Mostly he leaves when I come in, though. But I’m sure that’s where he is now.”

Dawn’s voice. And then, the door.

Dawn’s face looks as if she’d just washed it, her lips slightly less swollen and with a fresh coat of lipstick. Mary Anne comes in behind her, and Kristy might be imagining things but she looks taller, closer to Dawn’s height than before. And she’s definitely gained weight; her favorite t-shirt with a smiling cartoon cat had always been baggy on her but now it’s tight across her chest and stomach, and the straight leg jeans she’s paired it with hug her thighs. Her hair is a little longer too, close to the length she’d had it when they were kids (though minus the braids). 

“Your hair looks so good,” says Dawn.

“Thanks,” says Mary Anne. “You should have been here at Thanksgiving. Dad kept saying it was so scraggly and I needed to get a trim, and didn’t I like my hairstyle the way it was.”

She pauses to roll her eyes. “But you look so good with the layers!”

“It’s so much lighter now,” says Dawn. “And it doesn’t get in the way nearly as much.”

Mary Anne looks as if she’s about to ask Dawn something but then she sees Tigger on the bed.

“Tigger! I missed you!”

He rolls over and Mary Anne begins to coo at him and rub his stomach. Dawn stares at the closet, as if into Kristy’s eyes through the keyhole.

“Hey, let’s take him into your room and unpack your stuff,” says Dawn. “I want to see all those new clothes you got.”

Mary Anne giggles and picks up Tigger, cradling him to her chest. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” says Dawn. “I just need to find something I got for you--it’s a surprise--so go.”

“Ooh,” says Mary Anne, and the promise of a present sends her off. Dawn waits a few seconds before walking over to the closet and opening it a crack.

“There’s a box of designer perfume--it should be behind the hamper,” she hisses.

Kristy roots around until she feels the poke of a sharp corner. She pulls out the box and hands it out to Dawn.

“Do you have a plan?” she whispers back.

(In hindsight, she should have just claimed she’d been over to catch up with Dawn. That would be more believable than whatever they come up with here.)

“I’ll open the back door when we go back downstairs.”

“I need to get home for dinner.”

Dawn shrugs, like it’s not her problem at all, and Kristy is reminded very vividly of how much she’d disliked Dawn when they’d first met. She feels like sticking out her tongue but doesn’t, especially because it makes her think about what Dawn’s tongue had just been doing.

Dawn disappears, but it’s only a few minutes before Kristy hears her and Mary Anne clattering down the stairs. Kristy pushes the closet door open very carefully and unfolds herself. It’s definitely getting dark out, but there’s still some light; she’ll be home in time to help with dinner. She grabs her sweater and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not too bad. Her bra strap’s twisted, but the sweater will hide it. She squeezes through the half-open door and pads down the hall. Shit, her shoes--they’re still in Dawn’s bedroom. She backtracks, grabbing them from where they are, just inside the door, and then she hears a rustle from down the hall. She turns around, holding her breath--it’s only Tigger. He meows at her, and she shakes her head. 

Carefully, Kristy makes her way down the stairs, thanking her lucky stars the whole way that the house is only a few years old and they don’t creak under her weight. She scans her surroundings; there are no mirrors or open doorways that will give her away, but she needs to go fast. She dashes down the hall toward the back door; her steps are not silent but everyone has to be too far away to find her. And maybe they’ll blame Tigger, or the washing machine, or something.

She catches the door before it bangs shut behind her and ducks behind a hedge, inching her way around the house, careful to avoid the first-floor windows. She hears the back door open again, and then Dawn’s voice.

“I told you it was nothing, Mom. I just forgot to lock the door.”

“I could have sworn I heard footsteps.” That’s Richard.

“Well, there’s no one out there. Do you want to take a look?”

Kristy creeps toward the front of the house--the neighbors had better not be home. She’s not sure who lives here now, actually, but she doesn’t see any faces in the windows. She stands up straight and backs away from the house, trying to keep away from their vantage point, until she reaches the sidewalk. She pats her pockets to make sure she has everything, and the telltale lump of her underwear is gone.

Kristy pauses to put on her shoes while taking a few covert glances at the hedge. There’s a piece of what looks like white fabric hugging the corner. She can’t go back now, though--she’ll have to phone Dawn about it later. But it’s an excuse to see her again (not that Kristy needed one).


End file.
